


stopping now and then to share a lover's sigh

by wants2die



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Jewish Character, LGBTQ Jewish Character(s), M/M, ahhh, roman au!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 09:49:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5000182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wants2die/pseuds/wants2die
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>tyler is a rich ass roman dude and josh is on the run from christians; it shouldn't work, but it does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stopping now and then to share a lover's sigh

**Author's Note:**

> ok lets see:  
> \- being christian was illegal in rome early in the empire  
> \- it was hella common for married men to have male lovers  
> \- villa is house, insulae are tiny cramped apartments  
> \- the latin alphabet doesnt have j's or sh's  
> \- praenomen = first name, nomen = family name, cognomen = last name  
> \- i know jenna n josh arent jewish irl ,,, this story was written by a jewish boy ,, ok?  
> \- i love u all

The men who come to his _villa_ are usually fragile, frantic and skinny. They are poor men, living in the cramped _insulae_ , breathing in smoke and skin-stuffed air. There is barely enough room to turn around in the streets of Rome, crowded as they are. Some of them live on the streets, sleeping among the filth and waste and helter-skelter pace of the city.

This man, however, has broad shoulders and bright cheeks, healthy enough to make Tyler pause. Men living on the streets are gaunt and pale and sickly, everything this handsome man is not.

“Good evening,” he says smoothly, drawing a sheet of parchment from his table. “What is your name and your business?”

“I need help,” the man says quickly. “My name is Joshua, and I need your protection.”

Tyler writes the name in his neat script, a nervous feeling rising in his chest. He writes Gosua. He has never heard this name before, and it is not Roman, not any Latin script he's ever heard, and he is well learned even for a patrician.

“And would that be a praenomen, nomen, or cognomen?” Tyler asks dutifully, looking up at the man. There is no way this man is of Roman descent, no way this city gave birth to the dark curls of his hair or the shape of his eyes. “Or is that a stupid question, since there's no way you're a Roman?”

“Have you heard of the Christians?” Joshua asks after a moment, hushed, like a secret.

“Everyone has heard of the Christians,” Tyler says, feeling the unfamiliar syllables in his tongue. No one speaks of them as openly as this, as unafraid. They are only talked of in vague whispers, private rumors. “If you are a Christian, sir, I'm afraid -”

Joshua shakes his head. “They are hunting me,” he tells Tyler. “My mother is a Jew, and we lived in the countryside. They forced her to convert, but I ran. I saved myself. I need your help, please.”

Tyler takes a deep breath, steadies himself.

“Let me speak to my wife,” he says after a moment. “I believe we can help you.”

* * *

 

 

“Another Jew in the city?” Jenna asks, perching on the couch and handing Tyler a mug of honey-water.

“I never thought I'd see it,” Tyler admits, taking a slow, sweet sip.

“We have to help him,” Jenna says softly. “He is a brother, my brother. They'll kill him if they find him, you know it. Your Romans are as bloodthirsty as the Christians.”

Tyler sighs. “I know,” he admits. “I know. He'll have to get a new name, a new identity. There's no way we can turn him loose as he is.”

Jenna breathes deep. “Tyler,” she says mournfully. “Please. You helped me so much, saved me. I don't want him to lose everything. You've protected me all these years. Can't you protect him as well? Please?”

He turns to Jenna then, traces her soft cheeks and wide eyes with a trembling hand. “I will,” he promises. “My dove, I would do anything for you.” He leans forward and kisses her, soft and sweet, tasting like honey and apple and hope. 

* * *

 

“My wife is Jewish,” Tyler tells Joshua. “I've protected her for many long years, because I love her more than anything. More than anything. On the wishes of Jenna, I will extend the same protection to you, if you wish it.”

“Thank you,” Joshua says, it coming out as a gasp. “Thank you so much, sir, I owe you -”

“With a few conditions,” Tyler says, holding up a stern hand. “You'll live here. With us. You'll be mine, if you understand what I mean. Ours. I'll care well for you, make sure that you are well-fed and well-fucked. You'll be safe and loved under our roof. Does that sound pleasing?”

Joshua's brow wrinkles, a hard sort of look. “Your wife proposed this deal?” he says, dubious.

“My wife understands,” Tyler says softly. “We weren't made for each other. She loves me as a brother, but her heart belongs to a serving girl she grew up with. They're sweet.”

Joshua's expression softens. “You love her very much, then, to stay with her while her heart belongs to another. That's kind.”

Tyler chuckles. “You misunderstand me. Jenna isn't the only queer one. My heart doesn't belong to the fairer sex, by any means.”

There is a still silence, a pregnant pause for a few seconds, while Joshua processes, only broken by his quiet murmur of thank you.

“Thank you, thank you,” Joshua repeats, like a prayer, and Tyler leans forward and presses their lips together. Joshua's cheeks are warm and solid, his mouth broader than Jenna's with peeling skin. He kisses heavy and hot, hands on Tyler's hips, a solid weight against Tyler. Tyler generally considers sleeping with his clients a foolish, arrogant idea, but Joshua's kisses are sweet and he really should reconsider that policy.

* * *

 

Jenna presses a soft kiss to Tyler's cheek and sets a plate down before him. “Where's Joshua?” she asks, her tone light and teasing. “Did you tire him out last night?”

“He's sleeping,” Tyler says softly, and Jenna seats herself on the chair next to his with a grin. “And we're going to let him wake up on his own, right?” He directs a stern glare at Jenna. She giggles brightly.

“Yes,” she promises. “He needs his beauty sleep, I'm sure.”

“I don't think he's slept for a while, Jenna,” Tyler says pointedly. “At least not well. He's terrified. We need to make him feel safe.”

“I know,” Jenna says, cross. “I know him. I was him, Tyler. I was scared and lost and all I wanted was a friend. I'm not going to do anything stupid. Have a little faith in your wife, huh?”

Tyler strokes the back of her hand. “I have faith in you, love,” he says softly. “You know that.”

Jenna looks away, parts her soft pink lips as if to respond, but is interrupted by the soft padding of feet against dirt as Josh approaches. Tyler's heart stutters in his chest; Joshua is wearing one of Tyler's tunics and his broad frame, bolder and thicker than Tyler's, is stretching the fabric in ways which aren't fair to Tyler. He swallows.

“Good morning!” Jenna says brightly, waltzing over to Joshua and ruffling his dark curls. Joshua ducks, squirming, and something in their manner reminds Tyler of brother and sister.

“Hi,” Joshua says, looking over at Tyler. His eyes are dark and unreadable. “I hope it's alright that I borrowed your clothes. I wouldn't have, but I don't really have anything else to wear. I can change, though, if you -”

Tyler sighs and stands up, causing Joshua to break abruptly off in the middle of his sentence. He pulls Joshua forward by the neck of Tyler's tunic and kisses him hard. Joshua pulls away after a second, eyes glazed bright. He laughs.

“We're going to have to get you some clothes,” Tyler murmurs, tracing the collar of his tunic, tight against Joshua's skin. “As beautiful as you are in my clothes, you should have some of your own.”

“Thank you,” Joshua whispers, leaning in to kiss Tyler again. “I don't know how I'll ever repay you for any of this.”

“You don't have to,” Tyler tells him softly. “You deserve it.”

* * *

 

Tyler hasn't been to the Forum in Rome in over a year, since Joshua became part of their little family and it was easier to drive out of the city and go to a smaller forum in a small country town, where he is less likely to be recognized and persecuted. It is as it's always been, a year in Rome doing little to change the familiar hustle and bustle of the market.

The Forum is less busy than he remembers, today, slower, probably due to the shower the gods are letting flow from the sky. Joshua's curls are long and wet, sticking to the back of his neck. Tyler doesn't dare to think about what his own shaggy hair must look like. He twines his fingers with Joshua's. “Let's go,” he says, a quiet murmur into the wet air.

Tyler feels unduly brave, today, with the water soaking his tunic and Joshua by his side. They're both sick of hiding in Tyler's house, watching Rome change around them. The city has never been friendly, never been open, but it's warmer now than Tyler ever remembers it being.

The sun breaks through the heavy clouds and illuminates the columns for a shining moment, and Tyler walks with Joshua into the marketplace.

He isn't afraid.

* * *

They have a marriage, of sorts, Jenna saying the prayers and Tyler carrying the orange-veiled Josh across the treshold of their house. Jenna and her girl and all of Tyler's clients cheer loudly when they kiss.

Rome isn't a mother; she isn't a warm, caring embrace. She is as cold as the heart of a man must be to let him kill his own brother, and twice as clogged. Rome doesn't care for them, and so they must care for each other. Through war and famine and plague, through Jenna's girl's pregnancy and raising her son as their own, through every curve the gods test them with, they care for each other.

Rome doesn't love them, but they love each other, and that is enough for them.


End file.
